


Jeeves and the Helping Hand

by mechanicaljewel



Category: Jeeves & Wooster, Jeeves - P. G. Wodehouse
Genre: Community: indeedsir, F/M, M/M, Originally Posted on LiveJournal
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2008-03-20
Updated: 2008-03-20
Packaged: 2017-11-13 02:40:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/498539
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mechanicaljewel/pseuds/mechanicaljewel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Aunt Agatha is trying to set Bertie up with his old school chum’s fiancée; the o.s.c. is oddly unworried.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Jeeves and the Helping Hand

**Author's Note:**

> Characters, etc, property of PG Wodehouse, who once said, “I sometimes wish I wrote that powerful stuff the reviewers like so much, all about incest and homosexualism.”
> 
> So, um, yeah. This was supposed to be my Yuletide 2008 contribution. But I am an utter failbot defaulter who had no idea it was going to get a long as it did, and so did not schedule enough time to finish it. And since then, I have been too ashamed to look at it, until now. I’m posting it in two chapters, the second one of which probably won’t be up until early April, because I’m leaving to go on a Mediterranean tour this Sunday, but I was desperate to get something posted (partly because a frand on another forum wanted some new J/W, and I promised her some by Friday).

Jeeves shimmered in one shining Sunday morning (or rather, afternoon, as I had had what Jeeves refers to as “a late evening” the night before.)  As I had already downed his restorative and was currently sipping the morning oolong, his presence could only be explained by the small envelope in his hand.

“This telegram just arrived for you, sir,” Jeeves said.

Despite the restorative and the tea, the mere idea of setting the mincers about the task of reading set my brain banging about like the clappers of the Bells of St. Mary’s.  So I said, “Well, have at it, Jeeves.”

He nodded with a ‘yes, sir’ and proceeded to extract the missive from its envelope.  “‘Bertie,’” he read. “‘Haven’t seen you in years, but emergency has arisen.  Request audience with you at once.  Am in London until tomorrow noon.  Absolutely must meet with you by then. Yours et cetera, Percival Milton Smith-Wright.’”

“Well, well, well, old Voley.  Well, well, well, I say Jeeves, how do you like that?”

“Sir?”

“Well, I mean, it’s one thing to have an old school chum one has not seen since leaving Eton to call one up out of the blue and say ‘how about a drink old thing?’  But to barge in and demand use of one’s valet, well, that simply isn’t on!” I blustered.

“To be fair, sir, the missive does not refer to me at all,” Jeeves elocuted.

“Doesn’t it?”  I waved my hand.  “Well, no matter Jeeves, no doubt he requires your counsel, like thousands before him. But honestly, a period of warm acquaintance some years past is hardly enough to justify such intrusion.  Don’t you agree, Jeeves?”

“Well, sir, it would depend on the nature of Mr. Smith-Wright’s troubles.  He does, after all, refer to an emergency.”

“Jeeves, that is most diplomatic of you, but diplomacy is not what is needed here.”

“No sir.  Shall I then convey your regrets to Mr. Smith-Wright?”

“You bally well shall, Jeeves.”

“Yes sir,” he said with a slight bow, the light glinting off of his brilliantined hair.  At that moment, the telephone rang.  “If you’ll excuse me, sir,” and he shimmered out.  I gazed admiringly at his backside as he departed, and grinned into my tea after he left my purview.  I then promptly snorted up the liquid when I caught the words, “Is Mr. Wooster available to come down to Easeby this evening?  Pardon me, Lady Worplesdon, I will have to ask him.”

I leapt out of bed, the piping liquid splashing on my chest, and I darted out into the corridor and landed next to Jeeves.  “I’m entertaining Voley tonight!” I hissed at him, terrified.  Jeeves nodded and spoke into the receiver, “I’m very sorry, Lady Worplesdon, but Mr. Wooster has already committed to entertaining a friend he has not seen in some years, and it would be most impolite to cancel.”  There was a pause, as he listened to what Aunt Agatha was saying, which I couldn’t make out, though I could definitely hear some racket coming out of the earpiece.  “I shall convey the message, my lady.  Good afternoon.”

“Whew!” I exclaimed.  “Dodged a bullet that time, eh Jeeves?”

“Indeed, sir.  Shall I make arrangements with Mr. Smith-Wright, then?”

“Hm?  Oh, yes, right, carry on,” I said, not really paying attention as my mind filled with the images of the unearthly horrors I had no doubt escaped that evening.  Some new beazel or other definitely topped the list.

~          ~          ~

It occurred to me some time later that I needn’t have actually made plans with Voley that evening.  It wasn’t as if Aunt Agatha actually had the means of checking, but I grew pleased with the idea of seeing Voley, and didn’t even mind that he was coming to exploit my valet’s brain.  Solving problems made Jeeves happy, and it had been a quiet week for the Last of the Woosters.  I set about imagining what perils Voley could be facing to be driven thusly to Jeeves.  My fantasies grew quite dark, so by the time 6:30 rolled around and the doorbell rang, I was most surprised to be greeted as I was.

“Bertie!” he cried, seizing my hand and shaking it vigourously and grinning widely.  “How are you? It’s been ages, hasn’t it?”

 Well, that is, I mean to say, what?  Of all the receptions I had been expecting from old Voley, joy and ecstasy were quite near the bottom of the list.  “Wh-what ho, Voley.  You’ve been keeping well?”

He laughed.  “Voley?  Dear Lord that takes me back.  No one’s called me that in years.  It’s just Percy now.”

Now this was astounding.  I’d never heard of a man giving up his school nickname.  It simply isn’t done!  I didn’t even know it was possible.  Then again, Voley—sorry, Percy—was one of the few middle-class boys at Eton, and the first of his family to go (from respectable London stock I understand, but his grandfather rather cheated in making his fortune: he went to America.)  We had obviously neglected to teach him the sanctity of the school nickname.  No doubt a full credit to how well he blended in with us then.

“Right ho then,  _Percy_ ,” I intoned, as we dropped hands and Jeeves moved to take Voley’s—sorry, Percy’s—coat and gloves.  “This is Jeeves, by the way.  My valet.” Jeeves gave a slight nod and turned to stow away Percy’s effects.

“Ah yes,  _Jeeves_.” Percy grinned at me with what I would call a ‘knowing look’ in his eye, although what Percy knew, I couldn’t imagine.  Probably just what a marvel he is.  Word gets around after all, but still, even Jeeves’s miraculous brain didn’t quite call for the leer that Voley-Percy was giving yours truly.

“Shall we sit down?” I asked guiding him to the drawing room.  “May I offer you a drink?”

Once we were all situated, seated with w-and-s’s  in our hands, Jeeves standing at the ready next to my chair, I decided to cut to the chase.  “So, Vole—sorry, Percy, what seems to be the trouble?”

“Trouble?  Oh right, my telegram.”  He chuckled heartily.  “So sorry about that, my dear chap.  I’m afraid I was quite panicked when I wrote that.  Didn’t quite have all the facts, as it turned out.  But I’ve spent the day talking to everyone I could find who has even just heard of you, and they put my mind quite at ease.”  And he lowered his eyes to his glass, gazing merrily at it as if it was telling him some private joke before he took a gulp.

“Er, sorry?”

Percy looked up and chuckled again.  “Oh, right, well it’s nothing really, just that your Aunt Agatha and my fiancée’s mother are trying to set the two of you up.”

I bolted out of my chair, spilling the rest of my drink all down my front.  “What?!” I spluttered.

“Oh yes,” Percy said with a wave of his hand, as if brushing aside the most insignificant gnat, failing to appreciate how very significant that gnat was, and that the gnat was really more of a winged boar. “And when I sent that telegram, I was going to come over and either sob at your feet or smash your face in, I hadn’t decided.  But then everyone in town explained to me about Jeeves, so I decided just to come over for a friendly evening.”

I closed my mouth (for it had been hanging open in alarm) and then said, “So you  _did_  come over for Jeeves’s help.”

“Sorry?” Percy looked puzzled.

“You said everyone in town explained to you about Jeeves, how he’s the got the biggest, most brilliant, most fish-fed brain in the Empire.  About how he’s always rescuing yours truly from the brink of matrimony and setting the course of true love straight.  And you want him to work his magic on severing the ties between your fiancée and myself.”

“Well, yes, but he’d do that anyway, right?” He looked from me to Jeeves and back again.  “Just for you, right?”

I looked up at Jeeves and beamed, and he nodded affectionately—no, sorry, affirmatively.  “Well, yes of course he would.”

“Right,” said Percy. “But hang on.  You say he can fix all romantic troubles?”

“Of course he can!”  Honestly, hadn’t he been paying attention to anyone this afternoon?

He addressed Jeeves directly.  “Ezzy’s mother, Lady Moorehead, hates me.  I say Ezzy’s my fiancée, but nothing’s really official because her mother doesn’t think me suitable.”

“Not suitable?  Why ever not?” I interjected.

“No idea,” said Voley. “I mean, I’m a successful banker, I went to Eton and Oxford…she just can’t stand the sight of me, I suppose.  Anyway, do you think Jeeves could fix that little snag after he breaks it off between you and Ezzy?”

I gave a loud “Ha!”  Percy looked at me curiously, and I explained.  “If I know Jeeves, he’ll work it all out  _before_ he breaks my engagement to your fiancée.  What say you, Jeeves?”

“I shall endeavor to give satisfaction, sir.  It would of course be best if I were able to observe all interested parties.”

“Jeeves is very interested in the psychology of the individual,” I told Voley knowingly.

“Well, you shouldn’t have much trouble garnering an invitation.  They’re all in Easeby at Lord Worplesdon’s.”

“At Aunt A.’s house you say?” I groaned at the prospect.  “I don’t suppose there’s any way around it, is there Jeeves?”

“I’m afraid not, sir.  In fact, when Lady Worplesdon telephoned this afternoon, you were ordered to arrive in Easeby by tomorrow morning.”

“Of course I was,” I said darkly.

“Indeed, sir.  In fact, Lady Worplesdon seemed most insistent that you should arrive as early as possible.”

I sighed.  “Very well, Jeeves.  Go make the arrangements.”

“Very good, sir.”  And he left the room.

I must have looked more dejected than I thought, because Percy leaned in and put his hand consolingly on my knee.  “Buck up there, Bertie, that’s a good chap.  The course of true love will run straight again, eh?”

I sighed again.  “Oh, you’re right of course.  Jeeves has never failed before.  It’s just such a bother, all these engagements.  I wish there was some way to convey to Aunt A. that every position in the Wooster household that I want filled  _is_  filled.”

He patted my knee in a brotherly manner.  “I’m sure she’ll come to understand it eventually.  The older generation, you know?  They’re just much slower to more modern ways of thinking.”

“Yes, quite.”  I wasn’t quite sure that I fully understood what Percy was on about, so I thought it best just to agree.

“What say I leave you two alone, so that you can have the rest of the night to, ah,  _conspire_?” he said with that same knowing look he had given me earlier that night.  I decided that even though Percy seemed a decent sort that I would love to relive old times with, I really couldn’t stand it if he was going to be making faces at me all night, so I took him up on his offer.

After Percy left, Jeeves shimmered in.  “All is settled for our departure tomorrow morning.  Am I correct in deducing that Mr. Smith-Wright has departed?”  I answered in the affirmative.  “Shall I draw you a warm bath, sir?”

I could have kissed him.  “Jeeves, you are a marvel.”

~          ~          ~

I will not horrify you with the details of meeting Lady Zenobia Moorehead, wife of the late Sir Robert Moorehead, her garish tiara and millions of rings, her oddly affected and obviously coached accent, and just move on to her daughter, who is a charming young thing—a trait common, I have found, with girls who have no designs on marrying me, actually.

At my aunt’s and her mother’s insistence, she and I went for a stroll on the grounds of Aunt Agatha and Lord Worplesdon’s estate, which we were both more than happy to do.  Once we had gotten a good ramble going, Ezzy told me that Percy had phoned her up the night before after he had left my flat and explained everything to her, and she was most eager to meet Jeeves, too.  I promised to introduce them later, and she tucked her arm in mine, and gave a little squeeze.

“So, Percy says your mother doesn’t like him.  Any ideas why?” I inquired, figuring I should help Jeeves with his detective work.

“Oh, probably just because he’s not upper-class, nor is he Jewish,” she said airily.

I stumbled a bit, and almost took her down with me, but together we regained our footing and continued.  “Jewish?  Are you Jewish, then?”

“No, no. But it was always Mummy’s dream that she’d marry either some prominent Englishman or a Jew.  Mummy’s from New York, you see.  It’s very prestigious to be Jewish in New York, apparently.”

“Ah, that explains the accent, then,” I said knowledgeably.

“Oh, I know, isn’t it terrifying?  She’s lived here for almost forty years, you’d think she would have gotten it right by now.”  Ezzy sighed.  “It also explains my name,” she said unhappily.

“Sorry?”

“My name—my proper first name is— _Ezra_.” She buried her face into her free hand.

“Well that’s a lovely name!  There’s a poet chappie that Jeeves is always going on about named Ezra,” I said encouragingly.

“But that’s the problem!” she exclaimed.  “It’s a  _man’s_  name.  Mother wanted to give me a nice, strong Jewish name, but she didn’t realize that it was a man’s name.”

“Oh, I see how that could be a problem,” I said, though I didn’t really. “Well, don’t you have any middle names you could use?”

She cringed.  “Just one:  _Louvenia_.”

“Oh, dear.”  Now, that name I could see the problem with.  Then, realizing there was nothing that could be done about her names, I decided to save her from her despair and changed the subject.  “I don’t understand why your mother would think me a suitable match, though.  I’m hardly a prominent Englishman.”

“Well, it’s really more that you’re upper-class.  She lost her mania for anyone really high-profile after what happened to Oscar Wilde.” Now this was even more unexpected, and I asked her to explain.  “Well, she was sixteen back when Wilde did his American tour, and apparently she managed to get invited to a party he was at in New York.  As far as I can tell, she succeeded in speaking to him, but completely failed to charm him into proposal as she had anticipated.”

“Oh,” I said, expecting a completely different angle to that story, and decided to address it as delicately as I could.  “But surely, she eventually figured out what went wrong there.  That it wasn’t her fault?”

Ezzy gave my arm an extra squeeze and giggled slightly before answering.  “She points out that Wilde was married before all that, and she maintains that had he married her, she would have been the right woman to prevent him descending so low.  Her words, not mine,” she added hurriedly.  I felt a twinge of annoyance at her mother.  Jeeves always spoke very highly of Oscar Wilde, and always made him out to be more sympathetic than anyone else did.  And anyone who scores highly in Jeeves’s book scores highly in mine. __

And speaking of my guardian angel, I spotted him coming towards us from the direction of the house and pointed him out to Ezzy, who promptly withdrew her arm from mine.  I looked at her curiously.  “He won’t get jealous, you know,” I told her.  She blushed and allowed me to take her arm and guide her over to Jeeves.  I made the introductions and then asked Jeeves, “Any new developments, Jeeves? Any clever schemes percolating?”

“Not at the moment, sir.  I have been making enquiries amongst the servants and have received a few pieces of information that may at one point become useful, but as of yet I have nothing concrete upon which to build a plan.”

“Ah, yes, a concrete base is exactly what’s needed, Jeeves.  It’s in the Bible,” I said seriously.  Ezzy looked at me curiously.  “I won the Scripture Knowledge prize in grammar school.”  Turning back to Jeeves, I said, “That is a Bible story, isn’t it Jeeves?  The man builds his house on a rock and it doesn’t fall down?”

“A parable, sir, but yes.  Although the message there was about faith—”

“Exactly, as we have put faith in you, Jeeves.  And there’s no more solid foundation than that, eh?”

Jeeves’s face was positively somber (his way of expressing embarrassment) when he said, “As you say, sir.”

Ezzy was looking back and forth between the two of us, grinning.  At last she spoke: “But you will tell us when you’ve come up with something, won’t you Jeeves?  Percy will be here any minute now, and I would love to have some good news for him.”

“I will inform you of any developments immediately, miss.  Although, if I may be so bold, an aspect of this matter has aroused my curiosity that I hoped that you could address,” Jeeves said with a alight bow.

“Of course, Jeeves. Anything at all, if it will save my marriage to Percy.”

“Well, miss, I merely wondered how Mr. Smith-Wright has managed to garner an invitation to Lord Worplesdon’s estate and to retain it, despite your mother’s and Lady Worplesdon’s intention to ultimately separate you.”

“You know, it’s the strangest thing,” she said, leaning in conspiratorially. “She can’t stand the sight of Percy, yet she seems to crave his presence.  She loves to criticize him and can get quite vicious, but even so, she seems to be holding back.  She almost tried to prevent him going toLondon yesterday.  Like there’s something she wants to say to him but her time to do so is running short.”  She paused, chewing on her bottom lip for a moment.  Finally she said, “But I’m probably just reading too much into it.  No doubt she’s gotten used to him hanging round and can’t quite see the future without him.  Even if she was successful in breaking us up, she’d probably just end up adopting him just so he doesn’t forget how lacking he is in character, or something.”  She laughed.

I shuddered.  “What a mother!  Oh, no offense, Ezzy,” I added.

“None taken. She can be quite horrible as far as mothers go.”  Ezzy sighed.  “Not that Percy would know, of course.  He lost his mother when he was five, poor thing.  Hardly remembers her.”

I nodded sympathetically, and my insides started going cold.  I looked up at Jeeves, and when my eyes met his comforting gaze, my insides warmed right back up and the past faded away.

Ezzy spoke again, “Perhaps Mother thinks that once I compare Percy to such a fine example of the English aristocracy, I’ll forget my silly girlish love for such a commoner.”  Her eyes twinkled up at me.

“Better not say that around Aunt Agatha, she’ll send you off to Sir Roderick Glossop’s loony bin.  Fine example of the English aristocracy, indeed.” I scoffed.

“Exactly!” she exclaimed.  “Oh, no offense, Bertie,” she added.

“None taken, old thing.” We shared a laugh.  Even Jeeves seemed to enter into the spirit of things, even if he never actually made any indications hinting towards laughter.

Just then, a footman came into our purview and told Ezzy that Percy had arrived.  Before she hurried off to meet him, Jeeves requested that she ask him to meet with us in my room before dinner.  She promised to do so and skipped away.

“What’s the master plan then, Jeeves?”  I asked.

“It is nothing so complete yet, sir.”  He paused thoughtfully.

“Does it consider the psychology of the individual?”

I could have sworn that his eyes gave an indulgent flick in my direction. “Yes, sir.  I am going to suggest to Mr. Smith-Wright that he discuss the loss of his mother over dinner.”

“Rather morbid, isn’t it Jeeves?”

“I merely wish to observe Lady Moorehead’s reaction to the matter.”

“Do you think that if she hears how he lost his mother, the old maternal instinct will kick in and she’ll feel compelled to take him on as her son-in-law?”

“That is one possiblity, sir.”   


*          *          *

Dinner that evening promised to be a most rummy affair.  How Percy would be able to casually start rattling on about his late mother whom he barely remembers was beyond me.  And putting aside Lady M.’s reactions, how would everybody else react to such off-putting dinnertime conversation?  The first bit at least, seemed to be taken care of.  Percy had evidently conspired with Ezzy after speaking with Jeeves before dinner. About half-way through the soup, she reeled off some story or other about some dead rabbit of hers (they really should have consulted with Jeeves when coming up with this lead-in, but it was a bit late for that).

When she finished, Percy cleared his throat and began, quite effectively, engage the room with the tragic tale of his beautiful young mother who had shuffled loose this mortal coil giving birth to his little sister, who had apparently joined their mother a few minutes later.  Everyone in the room, even Lady Moorehead who was sitting next to Percy, seemed to be distinctly affected by the tragic tale.  That is, until Percy got to this part:

“…My father was devastated, of course.  Buried her the next day. He just couldn’t stand the thought of her lying in a cold morgue, I suppose. A good man, a decent man, my father—”

“HA!” Lady Moorehead screeched, shaking everyone at the table out of the melancholic trance Percy’s story had dropped us all into. I span round to take a quick glance at Jeeves, who then indicated that I should watch.

“P-pardon?” Percy stammered.

“Your father, a good, decent man? Ha!  I suppose you were too young to actually remember your mother’s funeral, or you would have remembered to mention the part where he hoisted your mother’s body on to cables and danced her into the ground like a marionette!”

 “I-I, well,” Percy croaked, then cleared his throat. “I take exception to such allegations against my father, Lady Moorehead.  Even if I accept that you knew him at all in your past, I doubt very strongly that you attended my mother’s funeral.  That you would have stooped to associate with such middle-class rubbish as my family.”  He glared icicles at her.

“Well, if that wasn’t it, mark my words, boy, it was some other practical joke that he no doubt found quite hilarious,” Lady Moorehead spat.  “I did know him, though, back in New York.  Our families were in fact on quite friendly terms.  But I always hated him, and he hated me right back!” She drew a long, rattling breath. “Always dropping frogs down my dress, or putting pepper in my tea!  And the pranks just grew worse and worse as we got older!  Until one day, ooh!  Our parents had managed to garner invitations to, well, one of the most significant social events of ’82!  And there was, ah, a prominent personage there who I know was destined to fall in love with me.  But the only way I could go was if  _he_  escorted me!  So we went, and I should have known something was going on when he behaved like a perfect gentleman for the first hour of the event.  I thought perhaps he had finally decided to start acting his age, but no! it was his worst trick ever!  He had hidden an ink packet in the shoulder corsage he had given me, and just when I was finally speaking to, ah, the man who should have loved me, he took out a pea shooter, blew a pellet at the corsage, and…” she covered her eyes with one hand and waved around the other one like a limp white flag, “It went  _everywhere_.  All over my brand-new periwinkle dress, and all over that man’s silk velvet suit, everything was ruined!  My life especially, but that man’s as well, though it would be years before he’d know it.” She removed her claw from her face and glared over at Percy.  “And it was all your dratted father’s fault!”  And with that, Lady Moorehead stood up, picked up her bowl of soup, dumped it on Percy’s head, and flounced out of the room. 


End file.
